Tools
I've been thinking a lot lately about tools, about the qualities of them, the satisfaction of using things that don't look luxurious but function well and make tasks easier. Sharp knives in the kitchen, good pots to cook with. When we went to Provincetown a few weekends ago we rented bicycles and I fell in love with what we rented--comfort bikes with good breaks and beautifully easy-to-use shifters that made even the long hills on the way to the beach so much easier to cope with. I have been grateful for my bike, for its sturdiness and the way it came to me as a gift from a friend, and I know that I will either keep it to have on hand as a loaner bike or donate it to a good cause--but I also know I will replace it sometime this year with something that I will find more pleasurable to ride, and in that pleasure will use more.
Similarly, when I was on writing retreat a few weeks ago srl let me fiddle around with his circa system--basically a fancy hole punch and binding system, the beauty of which is that it lets you add, remove, or simply move pages easily, and also that the binding system can accommodate many different sizes of paper simultaneously. When I had produced an ugly, jumbled mass of text this system allowed me to print it out, cut it into its respective paragraphs, and move the bits around until the ideas began to make a new sense and I could actually SEE how to rearrange what I had created, and where the holes still were. I promptly went out and ordered the thing for myself from Levenger and discovered that the Levenger system included sturdy, thick writing paper, pockets and zip-folders, and note-book sized sheets that contain their own large margin for making notes, footnotes, and annotations in. For someone like me who loves to draft her writing by hand but appreciates the flexibility of electronic text, nothing could be more perfect and the functionality of it makes me almost want to weep for joy.
As someone who hasn't had a lot of extra money this summer, I've been thinking about how to get the tools I need without having to pay cash for them. I'm bartering house-organization for my gyrotonic's sessions. I've traded child-care for time with a spiritual counselor. I've used extra magazine holders we had lying around the house as caddies to organize mail and papers into, I'm getting an extra bookshelf from a friend who has moved in order to hold the books I'll need to keep sorted out for my dissertation in a central location. I used the photocopier at school to make copies of the Tarot cards that symbolize the energies I want to bring to my writing process and have hung them around my desk. I've become better at putting together meals out of what is languishing in the backs of the cupboards and the fridge. And occasionally, though thankfully not often and not for anything I've really needed, I've learned to do without.
Watching the changes in my family as my parents dissolve their marriage, I've thought much about the less palpable tools I carry with me. The communication skills I have learned and honed. The ability to identify and work towards fulfilling my own needs. Practicing being still, being in the moment, appreciating the small things. Knowing how to see patterns in the words and actions of others so that I can better know how to be in right relation to them. Taking care of being in right relation to myself. Working on giving my love to others, freely and generously. Accepting that my work might fail, that it might not come out quite the way I want it to, but believing that the effort counts, somewhere, somehow.
And then there are the tools I can share with others. At a wedding last weekend I gave two tarot readings and was surprised by the accuracy of the cards, the increasing clarity of what I can see in them, and the fact that this skill I had offered, almost lightly, had a visibly powerful effect on those I read for. I know from my own life that tarot can be a powerful tool--so much so that I sometimes find myself almost reluctant to use it. I somehow didn't really know that I could use it as a tool with others. And then there are the tools I use in my teaching--how to see what people are trying to say and draw it out of them, how to help generate ideas, how to see things that are present but covered over or somehow obscured. I wonder what it would be like for me to go back to teaching dance, after all these years of teaching writing. I wonder what I'll find in myself to share that I don't presently know is there, and how I'll be able to put it to its best use in the world.
Similarly, when I was on writing retreat a few weeks ago srl let me fiddle around with his circa system--basically a fancy hole punch and binding system, the beauty of which is that it lets you add, remove, or simply move pages easily, and also that the binding system can accommodate many different sizes of paper simultaneously. When I had produced an ugly, jumbled mass of text this system allowed me to print it out, cut it into its respective paragraphs, and move the bits around until the ideas began to make a new sense and I could actually SEE how to rearrange what I had created, and where the holes still were. I promptly went out and ordered the thing for myself from Levenger and discovered that the Levenger system included sturdy, thick writing paper, pockets and zip-folders, and note-book sized sheets that contain their own large margin for making notes, footnotes, and annotations in. For someone like me who loves to draft her writing by hand but appreciates the flexibility of electronic text, nothing could be more perfect and the functionality of it makes me almost want to weep for joy.
As someone who hasn't had a lot of extra money this summer, I've been thinking about how to get the tools I need without having to pay cash for them. I'm bartering house-organization for my gyrotonic's sessions. I've traded child-care for time with a spiritual counselor. I've used extra magazine holders we had lying around the house as caddies to organize mail and papers into, I'm getting an extra bookshelf from a friend who has moved in order to hold the books I'll need to keep sorted out for my dissertation in a central location. I used the photocopier at school to make copies of the Tarot cards that symbolize the energies I want to bring to my writing process and have hung them around my desk. I've become better at putting together meals out of what is languishing in the backs of the cupboards and the fridge. And occasionally, though thankfully not often and not for anything I've really needed, I've learned to do without.
Watching the changes in my family as my parents dissolve their marriage, I've thought much about the less palpable tools I carry with me. The communication skills I have learned and honed. The ability to identify and work towards fulfilling my own needs. Practicing being still, being in the moment, appreciating the small things. Knowing how to see patterns in the words and actions of others so that I can better know how to be in right relation to them. Taking care of being in right relation to myself. Working on giving my love to others, freely and generously. Accepting that my work might fail, that it might not come out quite the way I want it to, but believing that the effort counts, somewhere, somehow.
And then there are the tools I can share with others. At a wedding last weekend I gave two tarot readings and was surprised by the accuracy of the cards, the increasing clarity of what I can see in them, and the fact that this skill I had offered, almost lightly, had a visibly powerful effect on those I read for. I know from my own life that tarot can be a powerful tool--so much so that I sometimes find myself almost reluctant to use it. I somehow didn't really know that I could use it as a tool with others. And then there are the tools I use in my teaching--how to see what people are trying to say and draw it out of them, how to help generate ideas, how to see things that are present but covered over or somehow obscured. I wonder what it would be like for me to go back to teaching dance, after all these years of teaching writing. I wonder what I'll find in myself to share that I don't presently know is there, and how I'll be able to put it to its best use in the world.